A Study in Blink
by ellie-hiddlebatch
Summary: This is what happens when Sherlock and John encounter a locked room mystery with nothing in the room but an angel statue.
1. Part One

"I just don't understand!" yelled a frustrated Sherlock Holmes, studying the old angel statue with his pocket magnifying glass. "There's not a single way that they could have disappeared! No windows, no secret corridors, no anything!"

John Watson sighed. The pair had encountered (and solved) may locked-room mysteries, but none as simple, yet complex, as this one. A rather older couple bearing the surname Williams had disappeared three days beforehand. They were last seen going to their cellar, which was locked from the inside. Nothing was found in the room except an angel statue, now covered in dust.

"Use your mind palace to figure it out!" John replied, irritated. "There's got to be something in there to help you."

Sherlock paused, pursing his lips, his hands together resting below his chin.

"We're going to a video store," he muttered.

John and Sherlock caught a cab. "Sparrow and Nightingale," Sherlock told the cab driver.

"Right then," the cab driver said, and sped toward downtown London.

"Why are we going to a video store?" John asked.

"I've heard of a similar case there."

The cab came to a stop, and after paying, the detective and his blogger entered Sparrow and Nightingale video store.

A blonde woman holding a baby was at the register, hushing it from its wailing. "Hello," she whispered. "Go ahead and take a good look around. Sorry about little Kathy."

"Are you Sally Sparrow?" Sherlock inquired.

She looked up from her baby. "Yeah... why?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, a detective, and I'm dealing with a case involving a stone angel."

Sally Sparrow stared at Sherlock.

"Let me show you the back room."


	2. Part Two

John followed Sally and Sherlock into the back room. The walls of it were plastered of photographs of various statues, some seeming extremely menacing and others completely normal and innocent looking.

"They're called the weeping angels," Sally began to whisper. "They only can move when nothing is looking at it. Including itself, so having two angels is as much of an advantage as it is a disadvantage. But, you've only got one, right?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "What do they do?"

"If they touch you, you get transported into a different time."

"The statues are of a... _supernatural _nature?"

"Yes, I suppose. But I've dealt with them before."

"Who helped you?"

"This man," she said, "the Doctor. He somehow knew all about it."

"John, I know everything I need to know," Sherlock said, turning to John. "Let's go."

"Thank you for your time," John added as an attempt to seem polite.

"Just don't blink!" Sally shouted after them. "Don't even blink," She said, significantly quieter this time, as her baby was woken up.

"Do you really believe that?" John asked Sherlock outside of the store.

"Not a bit," Sherlock said. "She's barking. There's got to be a reasonable explanation for this."

The duo headed back to the crime scene in a taxi, Sherlock murmuring to himself and John patiently waiting for Sherlock to speak again.

"Do you have any ideas, then? For how it was done?"

"No."

"So then how are you sure she's mad?"

"Because there's nothing supernatural. Not on Earth."

Returning to the cellar of the Williams', John and Sherlock studied the cracks in the wall's creases. "Sherlock," John said, seeing an odd substance that he didn't recognize, "what's this?"

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Sherlock?" John asked, turning around.

Sherlock was gone.


	3. Part Three

Sherlock, for once in his life, had no idea where he was. One moment, he had been examining a bit of ash in the crack of the wall; the next, he was in an unfamiliar place that certainly wasn't modern-day London.

He examined the crowd. Brightly colored, boxy clothes could be spotted on nearly every woman. This definitely wasn't the modern day.

This was 1960's London.

He moved toward a police box. If he wanted to seem fairly normal in this time period, he would go to he police. (That's what everyone would do, right?) Pulling to open it, he did not find a telephone. Instead, the entire panel opened, much like a door. He stepped inside.

"Ah, Clara," said a Scottish voice, "You're..." He saw Sherlock.

"Not Clara," Sherlock finished.

There was a silence between the two.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes... who are you?"

"I'm the doctor."

Sherlock paused. Could this be the funny man who Sally Sparrow said helped her with the weeping angels?

Sherlock stepped forward. "Do you know anything about Weeping Angels?"

"You've been talking to Sally sparrow," the Doctor replied. "Did the angels send you to 1968?"

Sherlock nodded, fully noticing the size of the room he'd just walked into. This was definitely not a phone box.

"What the..." Sherlock muttered.

"Just noticed?" asked the Doctor, his large eyebrows raised in disbelief. "History calls you the most observant man in the universe."

"I try to be," Sherlock said, but he wasn't paying attention to the Doctor anymore. He took notice of the odd things in the room, noting the complicated-seeming control system and what seemed to be many vast corridors.

Definitely not a police box.

"What's your current time period?" the Doctor asked, sighing.

"I want to get back to London. August 21, 2011. 3-ish."

The doctor flipped a few switches and turned a few knobs.

"You're taking me back?" Sherlock asked.

"I suppose I ought to," the Doctor replied, annoyed.

The Doctor slammed one last button, and the box wheezed and groaned as it left 1968.


	4. Part Four

"Is this a spaceship?" Sherlock asked, once again looking around. The room was quite fascinating again.

"It's called a TARDIS," the doctor began, as if this was the beginning of a long lecture. "She's been with me for a thousand years," he said, patting the center console.

_A thousand years?_ Sherlock thought. _Surely he isn't human._

"Are you...human?" Sherlock asked.

"No." The doctor grinned. Sherlock examined the outfit that the Doctor wore. It was rather simple; it consisted of a black suit (with a blood-re lining), a white shirt and a black pair of pants. The look was completed with normal dress shoes. He donned gray hair and rather large eyebrows. He was rather tall; in fact, he was the same height as Sherlock. His eyes were a grayish blue, but they looked old... very old.

The TARDIS came to a stop, and Sherlock inspected the room one final time. "Err, thank you," he said to the Doctor. The Doctor nodded his head.

"Don't you need help with the weeping angels?"

"That would be preferred," Sherlock said, turning around.

"Where are they?"

Sherlock opened the door, looking for where they were. "It's right down the street."

The Doctor followed Sherlock. The two hurried down the Suburban London street. They soon approached the Williams' street.

"Who lived here?" the Doctor asked.

"Amelia and Rory Williams," Sherlock answered. The Doctor' eyes widened. "Did you know them?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said, "I did. They were- they were dear friends."

"Oh," Sherlock said. "Well, I suppose that if you really care about them, they probably aren't dead."

The doctor smiled sadly, as if there was no hope.

"Were you alone?" the Doctor asked.

"No."

"Then I suppose we head back before whoever you're with gets touched."

After considering this thought, Sherlock finally realized...

_John._


	5. Part 5

"D'you think this means something?" John asked his partner, turning around. To John's surprise, Sherlock wasn't there, and standing where he should have been was the same weeping angel statue, in a different position and a different place. Instead of looking as if it was weeping, this time, it had fangs like a vampire, its hands outstretched, its slender fingers nearly touching John's forehead. John fumbled for his phone.

"Sherlock?" he yelled.

"John, are you all right?" Sherlock asked, concerned.

"No, I'm not alright, I'm being confronted by this weeping angel and you're gone."

"I'm coming, quickly. I'm right in front of the house, I'll explain later. Don't blink, John. Don't blink." Sherlock hung up the phone.

John cursed under his breath, his eyes watering as the door was opened and Sherlock rushed in with a tall man with heavy eyebrows. The tall man took out some strange contraption that John could see solely out of the corner of his eye. An image-rather, a hologram- of a weeping angel appeared, looking right at the other one. Slowly, the hologram turned into stone, and John left from behind them.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor." The self proclaimed Doctor rushed upstairs again, heading into a 1960's blue police box.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked the Doctor.

"Back to 1968," the Doctor smiled. "Trying to find Amy and Rory. Not the first time they've run into weeping angels... And getting Clara might be nice, too, she has an interview tomorrow. I guess people like going to those kinds of things." He stepped inside. "Goodbye, Mr. Holmes." The box wheezed and grunted as it disappeared.

**A/N: Hope you guys liked that! I had fun writing my first Wholock fic and I hope to write more in the future. Feel free to review, please! Happy Holidays! -Ellie**


End file.
